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Love of God, session 5 · Sunday, November 15, 2026 · George Andraws

Main burden: Christ did not wait until we were easy to love before coming to save us. As we receive His mercy, He heals our hearts to become neighbors: people who see another person’s need, draw near with discernment, and seek that person’s good at a real cost. Love of neighbor is not an extra assignment after loving God. It belongs to our life with Him.

Primary reading: Luke 10:25-37. Read the whole passage from your Bible. Brief Scripture quotations below are from NKJV. The main lesson is followed by preparation material, not additional spoken content.

1. The person who interrupts my love of God

Who is hardest for you to love when you have just come out of church?

Not humanity in general. A particular person: someone who needs another conversation when you are ready to leave; a family member whose worries you have heard before; someone whose opinion has become the only thing you see about them.

It is possible to leave a beautiful Liturgy sincerely thankful to God, then resent the first person who needs our attention. That contradiction is not a reason to stop coming to church. It is a reason to bring our hearts more honestly into what the Church is giving us.

This series began with God loving us first. Our response to Him, healed self-love, and faithfulness in dryness now meet their test in the person before us.

We do not need perfect prayer, inner confidence, or warm feelings before beginning. Christ can teach us mercy while we are still struggling.

The question today is not, “Am I a loving person?” It is more searching: What happens to my love when another person’s need becomes inconvenient?

2. A right answer can leave my heart unchanged

Luke’s lawyer is an expert in the Law of Moses, not a courtroom attorney in our modern sense. He asks about inheriting eternal life. Jesus directs him to the Law, and he answers with love of God and love of neighbor. Jesus affirms the answer.

The command to love is not Christ correcting a supposedly loveless Jewish Scripture. It is already there in the Law the lawyer knows. The problem comes when knowing the commandment is separated from obeying it.

“But he, wanting to justify himself, said to Jesus, ‘And who is my neighbor?’” Luke 10:29

His next question can make the obligation manageable. Who falls inside it? Where may I draw the line?

We can do the same without asking aloud. I will help people who appreciate it. I will listen when I am not tired. I will love the person I imagine someone ought to be, rather than meet the person who is actually there.

Not every limit is selfish. We have real responsibilities and finite strength. But self-justification begins when my first concern is to prove that nothing needs to change in me. Sometimes what I am protecting is not a necessary boundary, but my wish to be right, to remain comfortable, or to make someone feel the pain they caused me. The encounter reveals what has begun to govern my heart.

St. Cyril of Alexandria, commenting on this passage, presses precisely this danger: religious titles and knowledge do not benefit us when our deeds contradict the love we profess.1 His warning belongs first in our own examination of conscience, not in our criticism of clergy or other parishioners.

Repentance asks, “What in me is refusing the good I could rightly offer?” It brings my choices into Christ’s light without taking responsibility for someone else’s sin. Instead of “People make me angry,” I can name a chosen wrong: “I humiliated someone. I repeated their failure for the pleasure of it.” What is named honestly can be confessed, forgiven, and healed.

Jesus does not give the lawyer a smaller list. He tells him about a man lying beside a road.

3. Mercy crosses the distance that indifference preserves

The traveler is robbed, stripped, wounded, and left half dead. A priest sees him and passes by. A Levite comes, looks, and passes by.

Luke does not tell us their reasons. We should not invent a religious duty, a fear of ritual impurity, or a scheduling conflict and preach it as fact. The terrible thing the text does tell us is enough: they saw him, but did not help him.

Then comes a Samaritan. Jews and Samaritans had a strained relationship, marked by religious and communal divisions; John’s Gospel notes that Jews did not associate with Samaritans (John 4:9). Now someone from across that divide becomes the example of obedience. Christ will not let the hearer reserve goodness for his own group.

“And when he saw him, he had compassion. So he went to him and bandaged his wounds, pouring on oil and wine.” Luke 10:33-34

All three see. Compassion changes what the Samaritan does next: he goes toward the man. He gives his supplies, transport, time, and money, and provides for continued care.

The wounded man does not first become useful, agreeable, or able to repay him. Mercy responds to his need.

St. John Chrysostom uses this parable to resist the temptation to help only our own circle. Of a person in distress he says:

“He is God’s, be he heathen or be he Jew; since even if he is an unbeliever, still he needs help.”2

That is a demanding sentence. The sufferer belongs to God before he belongs to a category I approve or distrust. Necessary questions about safe and appropriate help remain necessary. But investigating whether someone deserves compassion must not become a respectable way of withholding it.

For us, this can mean learning a person’s name before assigning a label; hearing what help is actually wanted; giving practical assistance without turning someone’s distress into our story. A person is not a project through which I prove my generosity.

The Samaritan’s love also continues beyond the first feeling. He involves an innkeeper and provides for care. He does not do everything alone, but neither does he use delegation to avoid responsibility. There is room here for shared service, competent help, and keeping a promise after the urgent moment has passed.

At the end, Jesus changes the question:

“So which of these three do you think was neighbor to him who fell among the thieves?” Luke 10:36

The lawyer asked whom he must count as a neighbor. Christ asks who became a neighbor through mercy. We are being called not merely to identify an obligation, but to become a certain kind of person.

4. We can go toward another because Christ came toward us

If we stop here, the lesson can become another burden: notice more, give more, try harder. But the series began somewhere else, and St. John keeps us there:

“In this is love, not that we loved God, but that He loved us and sent His Son to be the propitiation for our sins. Beloved, if God so loved us, we also ought to love one another.” 1 John 4:10-11

“Propitiation” names Christ’s saving sacrifice for our sins. The Son did not persuade an unwilling Father to love us: the Father already loved us and sent Him. Love does not ignore evil. God acts to forgive, reconcile, and give us life through His Son.

Christ is more than an inspiring example of kindness. The incarnate Lord gives Himself for us, conquers death in His Resurrection, and shares His life with us in His Body, the Church. Our mercy is a response to His saving work, made possible by His grace, not a substitute for it.

The Lord washes His disciples’ feet, then commands them to serve one another: “as I have done to you” (John 13:15). We receive and respond. God’s love is poured into our hearts by the Holy Spirit (Romans 5:5), not manufactured by willpower. The Spirit heals and strengthens our willing response; He does not make it unnecessary.

This also frees us from superiority. I am not the healthy person descending to deal with someone else’s weakness. I am someone Christ is healing, learning to care for someone He loves. Sometimes I must be willing to receive help myself.

Augustine’s reading of First John keeps this order: God’s prior love enables and transforms ours.3 We are not earning the right to be loved by becoming merciful. We are consenting to the transformation His love begins.

St. John then brings that transformation very close to home:

We love Him because He first loved us.

If someone says, “I love God,” and hates his brother, he is a liar; for he who does not love his brother whom he has seen, how can he love God whom he has not seen?

And this commandment we have from Him: that he who loves God must love his brother also.

1 John 4:19-21

God’s prior love is the foundation. Love of the brother we can see tests our profession of love for the God we cannot see. Prayer is not an escape from that test. In prayer I can bring this particular person before Christ, asking for their true good, not merely for God to make them easier for me to bear.

An honest struggle to love is not a settled refusal to love. Involuntary fear, intrusive memories, and exhaustion are not chosen malice. We may begin, “Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy on me and on Your servant. Free me from revenge and contempt, and show me the next faithful step.” Without pretending affection, we can ask for grace, resist a cruel reply, and offer a real good. That small obedience does not purchase God’s love. It cooperates with the love He is giving.

5. The neighbor at home, in the parish, and beyond our circle

A roadside emergency is not the same as an ordinary disagreement or interruption. But the parable exposes a habit that can operate in each: seeing someone and arranging not to be involved.

At home, love may mean remaining attentive when familiarity has made us dismissive. Put the phone down and ask one real question before offering a solution. If I have spoken harshly, “I was wrong to speak to you that way; please forgive me” is repentance. Adding “but you made me” takes the apology back. Love seeks to repair the wound, not merely end an uncomfortable conversation.

At church, love may mean crossing a comfortable social boundary. After Liturgy, learn the name of someone outside your circle and make room for them in a conversation. In a disagreement, refuse to recruit an audience against someone through gossip or a group chat. Speak truth where it is needed, but ask whether you are seeking healing or enjoying the chance to diminish them. Sometimes the person I avoid has something to teach me about mercy.

For someone carrying a heavy burden, love may mean reliable, practical care. Ask what would actually help, then make a specific offer you can keep: a meal on Tuesday, a ride to an appointment, or a call after a difficult day. Preserve their privacy and freedom to decline. St. John places the willingness to give our lives beside the ordinary act of opening our resources to a brother in need (1 John 3:16-18). The large claim of love is tested by a small, available good.

With someone who has hurt us, love may begin by refusing revenge and seeking a truthful good. That can include naming wrongdoing, asking for accountability, involving a priest or qualified professional, or maintaining distance. Forgiveness is not a declaration that abuse is harmless. Reconciliation and restored trust require truth and cannot be forced by one person alone. If someone is in danger, protection and appropriate help come first.

The person before me is not entitled to unlimited access. My family and existing commitments are neighbors too. Distant suffering also matters; the title challenges love that remains safely abstract. Discernment asks, “What faithful care is actually mine to offer?” Indifference asks only, “How can I get out of this?”

And if I am the exhausted caregiver, the wounded person, or the one who cannot carry another demand today, receiving help can itself be a humble act of truth. Shared care is not failed love.

The Church’s ascetic life trains this freedom. Fasting teaches me not to obey every appetite, including the appetite for the last word or gossip. Almsgiving loosens my grip on what is mine; prayer brings the person I resent before God. We do not discard prayer and fasting until we become loving. We ask that they bear the fruit of love in actual relationships.

6. The love we receive at the altar must enter our relationships

In the Coptic Prayer of Reconciliation, the Church asks God to cleanse us from hypocrisy, malice, and the remembrance of evil, and to make us worthy to greet one another in peace.4 We ask because we need His healing. Communion is not a reward for having no wounded relationships, but neither is it compatible with a deliberate refusal to repent of hatred.

St. Paul joins our real communion in Christ’s Body and Blood to our becoming one body (1 Corinthians 10:16-17). The person beside me is not a distraction from communion with Christ. Our shared life calls us out of contempt, and His mercy sends us beyond our familiar parish circle.

St. John Chrysostom makes the connection searchingly concrete:

“Wouldest thou do honor to Christ’s body? Neglect Him not when naked”5

He does not reject beautiful worship. He refuses to let it excuse neglect of people in distress. The Christ we receive gives Himself for us; we cannot honor His self-giving while treating another person’s hunger as beneath our concern.

Bring your own choices to confession, not a case against someone else. Truthful disclosure of harm for protection, counsel, or accountability is not gossip or an evasion of repentance. Where safe and appropriate, make the apology or repair that is yours to make. Being injured does not make us responsible for the injury. Seek the priest’s guidance about deeply wounded relationships and preparation for Communion, rather than judging anyone’s sacramental standing here.

The end of this series is therefore not, “Try to be nicer.” It is: Receive Christ’s love deeply enough that you begin to go toward another person differently.

Name one person privately, not necessarily the person who has hurt you most. Identify a real need and choose one proportionate act of care. Keep the promise. Tonight, thank God for mercy received or offered; bring Him any refusal of love. If you failed, return without an excuse and without despair. The next encounter is another place to begin.

The lawyer answered, “He who showed mercy on him.” Jesus answered, “Go and do likewise” (Luke 10:37). The Lord who gives the command has already come toward us in love. We go in dependence on Him.

Closing prayer

Lord Jesus Christ, You came to save us before we knew how to love You. Receive our repentance for the people we have dismissed and the needs we have chosen not to see. Heal those who have been wounded, including those among us who need help today. By Your Holy Spirit, free us from contempt and the desire for revenge. Give us compassion without pride, generosity with discernment, and courage to speak truth with love. As You nourish us with Your life, teach us to recognize the good You are asking of us and to do it faithfully. When we fall, lead us back to repentance and hope. Amen.

Iconography Connection 🖼️

Russian Good Samaritan icon: a helper bends toward and supports an injured traveler, with a pack animal nearby. Source: Anonymous, Good Samaritan, Russian icon, late eighteenth century, public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.

The helper bends toward the wounded traveler and supports him at close range, with the animal beside them. The distance between the two people has been crossed. That visible act gives weight to the Gospel’s “he went to him”: compassion takes bodily, practical form. This is a Russian Orthodox visual witness, not a Coptic icon or a reconstruction of the historical road. The small inscription is not reliably legible in this reproduction; no detailed identification depends on it.

Footnotes

  1. Cyril of Alexandria, Commentary on Luke, Sermon 68, concluding paragraphs, trans. R. Payne Smith (1859), direct text. Paraphrase. ↩

  2. John Chrysostom, Homily 10 on Hebrews, §8, NPNF 1.14 (1889), direct passage. The quoted wording is retained from the verified translation. ↩

  3. Augustine, Homily 9 on First John, §§9-10, trans. H. Browne, NPNF 1.7 (1888), direct text. Paraphrase; the original’s dated bodily-beauty analogy is not carried into the lesson. ↩

  4. Prayer of Reconciliation, as quoted in CopticChurch.net, “Sacrament of the Eucharist”. English wording varies across service books; the body summarizes the petitions. ↩

  5. John Chrysostom, Homily 50 on Matthew, §4, trans. George Prevost, revised M. B. Riddle, NPNF 1.10 (1888), direct passage. The quotation ends before the source sentence continues; see §§4-5 for his explicit preservation of offerings for the church together with priority to care for those in need. ↩

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